Saturday at the Salon
by Charlie Begum
Summary: When Keagan goes to get her hair cut she never expected to fall in love.


Hi, this is a story for tumblr user wincestplease who requested a fic be written about her and a character my choosing. So Keagan this is for you hope you enjoy it!

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It's been a while since I got my hair cut.

It almost reaches my butt (it's still a few inches away but close enough) and who knows I might even go ahead a dye it some crazy color, blue hair and blue eyes would go well together.

I've also never had short hair in my life, much to the envy of my friends and family. But I usually forgo styling it in favor of just putting it up in a bun and under a cute hat. My best friend says it wouldn't make a lick of difference if I shaved off my head. But alas.

Today is a Saturday and I don't have any plans for the weekend except for sleeping and blogging. I'd also probably crank out a few chapters of Without a Word or maybe a short story. But I don't have any place to be or anyone to see, so I hopped in my car.

I looked in all my mirrors (taking the extra time to rehearse what I would be getting done today) before backing out of my drive way. It's been getting hotter the further into summer we've been getting, so I take the opportunity to roll down my window and enjoy the breeze and the sunshine. The hairdresser was quite a while away, a little shop called The Hair Gallery and boy did it live up to its name.

There were marble covered chairs lining the walls for the clients to sit in while they waited to be called back and in between each chair there was a little table that held books full of provided hair styles and cuts. But that wasn't all. On the walls and ceiling there hung massive bone white tree branches, spread out artistically on the jade green. Hell, there was even a fire place. It seemed equal part hair salon and art gallery.

Thankfully though they did take walk ins and so I sat in the corner trying to sneakily take pictures to send to my friend who would surely appreciate the irony. I starter flipping through the brochure picturing myself with the different styles (a smirked as a mohawked-Kegan appeared in my mind). After I got bored of that I turned on my phone and tried to beat my own high score at Temple Run™. It seemed a good fifteen minutes before they called me up.

A nice young blonde girl with blue streaks in her hair and kind brown eyes came to fetch me. As we were walking back she was nonstop talking but the way she did was endearing. I learned that it was her first week, her name is Sydney, she has a dog named Buster, and she was not the person who would be cutting my hair.

"But don't worry, I'll be leaving you in quite capable hands. Your hairdresser today is named Steve and he is really really sweet." She gushed while she combed my hair though it seemed her fascination was more with my hair than of Steve's sweetness.

I also had a hard time picturing someone as sweet Sydney that would end up cutting my hair but I tried not to focus on that as she babbled on about her dog, Buster.

"And so dripped on everything, especially the blankets and it was just a mess. But he was so happy. Hey Steve. Steve this is Keagan. He will be cutting your hair today." I was speechless. Also half sure they just placed a Greek god in front of me for their own entertainment because he couldn't be real.

Steve had just the kindest eyes that were the bluest I've ever seen. And hands that I already trust with my life (I mean hair). He was built too, like he saved the world on the weekends and flew back here to us mere mortals to offer some styling tips. His mouth seemed to be quirked up in a smirk by default, except for now they are moving. Oh god, he's been talking to me why I've zoned off thinking about the quickest and most stealthily way to get him to my house.

"Ugh, sorry?" I stammered out, blushing wildly. He rested a warm hand on my shoulder while his grin widen. I couldn't see Sydney anymore but I could only guess she went to fetch more clients.

"I asked you what you what you wanted done today. You chart says you're here to get some of this," he combed his fingers through my hair, "Cut off. Do you know how much?" Of course I did, I wanted only a few inches off. But one look into his stunning eyes and all of morning rehearsal went to shambles. I could only shrug helplessly as he smiled down on me. He gently retracted his hand from my hair, instead offering it to help me to stand up.

"Why don't we quickly wash your hair and then figure out where to go from there." I grabbed his and nodded shyly. He led me over to a row of sinks. As he applied the shampoo and conditioner I couldn't stop thinking how warm and strong his hands were, it was therapeutic. I almost fell asleep I was so comfortable.

We eventually head back to his work station the cold water dripping down my neck providing a good wake up call. He disappeared for a quick moment to fetch me a magazine full of different hairstyles in hopes of sparking an idea. I thanked him and flipped through it as he began cutting. He cut off two inches before looking to the mirror for my approval, I could only sit there and smile at him. He took that as encouragement to keep cutting.

As he cut he told me a little bit about himself. He was born and raised in Brooklyn where he served in the military. But during one mission his childhood, and current, best friend lost his arm he decided it was time for them to go home. Now he and Bucky live in a little apartment down the street with a no dog policy.

"Which really saddens me and Bucky, since we both have dogs back home and we were hoping to get one here. But I guess it's really for the best, none of us are home during the day and I'm constantly flying back to the States to check up on my mother and Bucky hates to admit it but he also misses his family." As he talked my hair became shorter and shorter until it was all the way up to my elbows, which I haven't seen since I was a child. Despite this I couldn't be bothered as chunks of my hair fell unceremoniously to the ground, I was enamored with Steve and would happily sit here all day until all my hair was gone.

I began reply to his questions of my favorite color, song, food, etc. I even told him about my blog and found out that he has never seen Supernatural. I quickly recommended it to him, probably the boldest thing I've done all day, and he promised he would watch it. I explained to him the show and even told him a little bit about Without a Word, which he seemed genuinely interested in. By now you could have made a cozy blanket out of the hair that was on the ground. Funnily enough neither Steve nor I minded both too caught up in our conversation.

Eventually he straightened up and put down the scissors. "I'm afraid that I have another client in about fifteen minutes." I too straightened up and finally looked at my hair as he was blow drying it.

It was a little bit longer than my shoulders, but I am pretty sure I could still put it up in a ponytail. With it being wet I couldn't really tell the weight difference but as soon as he finished drying, it felt really disorientating.

I stood up and paid at the front desk, touching my hair nonstop. They handed me a slip of paper with the products they recommend and then I was out of the shop. After opening and getting into my car I looked down at the paper in my hands and at the very bottom I could see in surprisingly neat handwriting a phone number with the name Steve xo attached. My heart, and face, lit up at the signature. I looked into my rearview mirror and touched my hair thinking to myself:

I could get use to short hair.


End file.
